


The Work

by Backpfeifengesichts



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-26 01:19:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13225188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backpfeifengesichts/pseuds/Backpfeifengesichts
Summary: It's Christmas Eve and Greg needs to find Sherlock.





	The Work

“Fucking hell.” 

Greg snaps his phone shut with a growl. That was the hundredth call he'd sent to Sherlock since noon, along with a thousand messages. No response to any of them. 

It’s nearly seven pm on Christmas bloody Eve, there’s less than three hours before they’ll have to charge George Ivy or release him, and Greg has spent all fucking day trying to get a hold of Sherlock bloody Holmes.  Ivy is a huge flight risk, guy probably has a private jet at the ready to take him to God knows where, and no one on his team can locate the supposed evidence Sherlock claimed proved the man’s guilt of his sister’s apparent suicide. Said annoying man-child flounced away with a cryptic message saying it was already on their desks early that morning and ever since no one has been able to track it - whatever it is - down.  Nor have they been able to track down Sherlock himself. He's got two officers stationed at his apartment but he hasn't shown up. 

They’ve also tried Mrs. Hudson’s, Molly’s, and Greg has called John several times. 

The surgeon is also frustratingly not replying to his messages and with time running out Greg decides he has no choice but to drive out to the suburbs to see if John can give him any hints about where Sherlock is.

John’s house belongs to one of those nice upper-middle class neighborhoods and Greg thinks it would be damn nice if he were coming over to watch a game, throw back a few beers, instead. 

The man's car is out front, thank Christ.

Greg runs up and knocks on the door, and keeps knocking when he no one answers, and soon starts pounding. Still no reply. 

_Fuck._

There's not another car which means John must be entertaining a date. Greg rubs at his jaw for a moment before whipping out his phone and sending a quick message to John.

_ I’m at your front door. If you don’t answer I’m coming in. _

He patiently waits at least several deep breaths before going for the spare key he remembers from those times he and John had gone drinking together. Bro-code be damned, he walks right in…

...to an empty living room...

_Oh fuck_. 

This means John’s definitely got someone over. He calls out as loud as he can so as to not startle them and give them time to prepare as he moves upstairs to John’s room. 

He hears John's voice muffled through the walls. “In the bath.”

He takes a deep breath. Might as well get this over as soon as possible. He opens John’s bedroom and then with another deep breath he bursts through the door to the master bath, feeling like a right git, trying to avert his gaze for whatever he might see, and shouting, “John, I’m here for Sherlock. Where is he?”


End file.
